Matt was still sitting on the street, tears dry, chest empty, when he heard soft footsteps approaching him. He ducked his head away, assuming Rachel had come for him, but the voice that greeted him was not one that he recognized.

  “Yai, shem,” the visitor said in a high tenor that instantly reminded Matt of warm caramel.

  Before Matt could work up the emotional presence to respond, a young man with tousled red hair and a starburst of freckles on each cheek sat down next to him, staring directly across the street as Matt recuperated himself. He sat with good posture and breathed almost unnaturally quietly, as if he were trying his best not to intervene in the moment.

  “Who are you?” Matt asked, finding more strength in his voice than he had predicted.

  The man smiled. “My name’s Petra. I apologize for intruding. You seemed like you needed to talk to someone.”

  Matt smiled regretfully. “Good guess. Matt, by the way.”

  Petra’s expression shifted quickly, as if he were concentrating on something beyond his vision, then relaxed. He reached into his green tote bag and pulled out a sizable baked pastry. “Here. I bought you a bubblefruit flake roll. I hope you’re not allergic.”

  Matt hesitated, then took the pastry gratefully. “You’re too kind. You don’t even know me.”

  “I feel like I do, somehow,” Petra mused. “I’ve been you. Uprooted, outcast, left to die.”

  Matt looked up, following Petra’s gaze to a slightly discoloured stone brick in the bookstore across the street. “Tell me about it.”

  Petra shook his head. “There’s not much to tell. The uprising in Ebera led to my family being personally targeted. I eventually escaped to Trensicourt, but still…”

  Matt closed his eyes, trying to imagine the horrors Petra must have seen. “You don’t have to tell me. Thanks for sharing.”

  He also noticed, for the first time, that Petra’s accent was markedly different from Lana’s, even though they had grown up in relative proximity. The accent was also, somehow, very familiar.

  “You have a nice accent,” Matt said noncommittally. “Did you grow up in Ebera?”

  Petra raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I was targeted by the revolutionaries?”

  “You came from-” Matt cut himself off as he finally connected the dots in his head. “You’re a Beyonder.”

  Petra smiled. “As are you.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Matt said, though he wanted to surge forward and hug Petra. A Beyonder. Someone from his world. Someone who might finally have answers. He felt the weight on his chest lessen - just barely, but enough.

  Petra let out a self-deprecating scoff. “It’d be easier to hide it without this stupid accent.”

  “I’ve been saying I’m from Whitehead,” Matt reasoned. “I don’t even know where that is, but it seems to work.”

  “You don’t roll your Rs,” Petra argued.

  Matt laughed. Not a little shy laugh, but a good one. A true one. One that he felt more than heard. It was freeing, he thought, to have so quickly met another Beyonder, and one whose company he might actually enjoy.

  Curiosity invaded Matt’s gut. “Have Lyrianites always spoken English?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Petra sighed. “Some places still speak their ancestral languages, but you’d have to look pretty hard. Migration from the Beyond drove the change, back when it was common.”

  Back when it was common. “I’m the third Beyonder I know to have made it here. Still, though, I think it’s uncommon.”

  Petra cocked his head. “Has anyone told you about the time dilation between here and the Beyond?”

  Matt chuckled darkly. “Might be why I’m out here.”

  “Think about it,” Petra prompted, pulling another pastry out of his bag and taking a small bite. Matt realized his pastry was still sitting uneaten in his hands, and quickly shuttled a bite into his mouth. It tasted strangely refreshing, and the gummy filling was less sweet than he had expected.

  “Hold on,” Matt realized. “It wouldn’t even matter when the gateways open on Earth. What matters is what time we arrive here.”

  It also meant that Rachel and Matt had been lucky to even come this close to Jason’s time. They could easily have ended up tens of thousands of years in the past. It only served to fuel his hatred for Rachel. How dare she take him between worlds, knowing how infinitesimally small of a chance they had to land in the correct timeframe?

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  Petra let a sly smile cross his face. “There you go. There have been events, over the millennia, that have brought large groups of people, but most people come randomly, one at a time.”

  Matt had more questions, but he quickly realized that this conversation would soon outlive its usefulness. He took another bite of his pastry and stood up, motioning for Petra to do the same. Petra followed his lead, and since neither of them had any specific direction, they just stood around in the street for a moment before Petra spoke.

  “I…” he trailed off, squeezing his fingers together. “I can’t help but think you’re familiar. You were with Tassel earlier today.”

  Matt groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Those twenty-four hours are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, huh?”

  Petra shook his head vehemently. “No, no, I’m actually assuming he was the one to kick you out on the street. Very Tassel thing to do, that.”

  “Heh.” Matt raised his head to look at Petra. “Sort of. Long story.”

  “I’ve got all day,” Petra reasoned. “If you’re willing, of course.”

  Matt resolved that many people just seemed to get by without working in this city. “Okay. Where fewer people can hear.”

  “I know a place.” Petra took the lead, walking briskly down the cobblestone street and ducking through multiple little intersections and alleyways. This part of town was visibly less well-kept than the artisan district that bordered the High School, though Matt could reason it was still cleaner than what he would have expected from a post-medieval society. They passed a stand that was piping the mouth-watering odor of spiced meat through the air, and after both pausing to take a wistful look at the vendor, they decided by unspoken accord that this would be worth a delay in their conversation.

  Ten minutes later, and having been proven right beyond a shadow of a doubt, they diverted into a small alleyway that opened up into a quaint circular plaza, centered by a small stone fountain in the shape of a woman crouching in a lush garden. The plaza was ringed by little flowering shrubs, and though they had evidently not been properly tended to, they held an unkempt charm.

  “I won’t tell you everything,” Matt started without preamble. “Some of the stuff I know might put you in danger.”

  “Might put you in danger as well.” Petra sat down with his back to the fountain, reaching out with one hand to swipe his fingers through the turbulent water at the edge of its pool. “If you’re not afraid to know it…”

  Matt nodded, understanding the implication. “I was brought here by another Beyonder. One who had been here before.”

  Petra raised his eyebrows. “That’s rare. A full return journey?”

  “Yeah. Anyway. We came back here to find our friend. This was before I knew about the time dilation, of course, or I never would have agreed to come here. The thing is - and I wish I was joking - our friend is a thousand years or so in the future.”

  Petra’s face drained. “Your… other Beyonder. They’ve seen the future.”

  “Played a big part in shaping that future, or so I’m told.”

  “How much do you know about what will happen?” Petra leaned forward, his hand scraping nervously at his chin.

  “Honestly, almost nothing.” Matt leaned back, brushing the back of his head against a mass of leaves. “I know Rachel was important. That’s about it.”

  “Good,” Petra said sharply, though his expression betrayed a twinge of disappointment. “Let’s try to keep it that way. For our sake.”

  Matt was beginning to wonder whether Petra might be more than what he seemed. He made a mental note to keep his guard up, but at the same time, he felt strangely comfortable. Almost too much so.

  “You spoke of you and your parents,” Matt said, beginning his little quest to root as much knowledge as he could out of Petra before he would have to start offering some of his own. “Did you all pass through together?”

  Petra nodded. “We were on a cave tour, actually. My family and three others. I remember when the cave started to shake, feeling more than hearing the way back to the surface seal itself off behind us.”

  “Oh,” Matt said in a small voice. “What happened next?”

  Petra shrugged. “Half of them gave up on the spot. The rest of us forced them to follow the guide as he led us through the caves, looking to find another exit. It was hours before we found one, and when we did…”

  “You had arrived here,” Matt finished.

  “Pretty far north, yeah,” Petra looked upwards wistfully. “The group started to split apart pretty quickly after we found a town and learned where we were. About half of us went to Ebera, but… I still wonder where the others are. If they’re still alive.”

  Matt finished off his pastry before continuing. “I know the Theic Age ended with the hunting and killing of wizards. I didn’t know they came after Beyonders, too.”

  Petra lowered his gaze introspectively. “Everyone was at risk. Even Lyrianites. If you weren’t holding a pitchfork, you eventually found yourself facing someone who was.”

  Matt closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. It must have been awful.”

  “Such is the reality of insurrection,” Petra sighed. “It’s… you can feel it in the air. The tension, the bloodlust. And after you see it once, you can’t stop looking for it.”

  “Do you feel it?” Matt asked, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “Here?”

  Petra took a long, deep breath. A gust of wind slipped through the little courtyard, stirring up a wave of dust and dead leaves and drawing gooseflesh from Matt’s exposed arms. For the first time, in the silence, Matt noticed a faint ring of music drifting down from above them. He tried to make out the melody, but failed.

  Petra nodded reluctantly, as if he could hardly bear to admit it himself. “It’s quieter this time. The people feel safe here, even complacent, but the knife edge upon which this city teeters is not held by a steady hand.”

  Matt already knew how this conversation would end, but he pushed it forward anyway. “You’re talking about Tassel.”

  “And the two girls you were with, if they’re still together.” Petra leaned forward. “Mark my words. Trensicourt is at the beginning of its end, and every single person in it will be caught in the crossfire when it dies.”

  Matt let the reality of the situation sit for a long breath. He knew what he was going to ask. He just didn’t know whether he was ready to trust the answer.

  “Who are you?” Matt whispered.

  Petra smiled. “Nobody special. I’ve seen the horrors of revolution before. I simply don’t want to see them again.”

  “Hm,” Matt replied as if he were satisfied. They sat in silence then, as Matt tried and failed to stop the whirling of his mind, as the setting sun began to streak the sky with red, as the faint music faded into the ephemeral breeze.

  And Matt, once again, waited patiently for his new companion to betray him.